Bad Press
by Georgerocksthehouse
Summary: When The Beatles  plus Yoko Ono  hosted that press conference, they never guessed the trouble Colleen Lockheart's twin Kris would cause. Rated K plus for now, might be upped later. AU!
1. Chapter 1

A/N- Well, here goes nothing. I hope Beatle Lover 19- 20- 1-18 isn't too pissed at me about my portrayal of her character, or using Anesia as a name... oh well. Without further musing from the slightly insane author, here is the story!

Disclaimer: It's called **FANFICTION **for a reason!

Dateline November 13, 1968

I sighed at my twin Kris, who currently was ranting- about John and Yoko. She never would shut up about them, and it was pissing me off. Even when we were at a family dinner (like now,) she would go on about "that bitch" and how "she's preventing me from meeting my John!" I was nearing the end of my rope.

Kris looked at me with annoyance. "Of course, Colleen isn't doing as you told her, mother," she simpered. "She's writing editorials instead of reporting." She, of course, failed to note that some of my editorials were very obviously pro- John and Yoko, which is why she mentioned it in the first place.

My mother turned her disapproving gaze on me, the effect made all the more annoying by the fact that her ice-blue eyes were the same as Kris's. "Why do editorials, Colleen? Your sister knows best, and she's a reporter!"

Well that did it. I was sick of being told that my sister knew what was best. In fact, my earliest memory was of picking strawberries while Kris chose an apple, only to be handed an apple by my mother who said, "Your sister knows best, Colleen!" Ever since then I had been forced to follow almost exactly in my sister's footsteps. Needless to say, I despised it, but I was too scared to do anything. Now, it was time to stage a small act of rebellion.

"If reporting is a better way to go, then why did I get a pass to the Beatles's press conference when Kris didn't?" I asked in a sarcastically polite tone.

My family fell into a shocked silence. Apparently, nobody had a good answer, until Kris suggested, "You must be in a relationship with the head of the paper to have conned him into giving you the pass."

I raised an eyebrow. "Dare I remind you," I began dryly, "that he is fifty-something years old... and married?"

Kris flipped her hand back-and-forth in the air. "I don't think you should go. And since there will be an extra pass, you should give it to me." Mother, father, and Kris looked at me expectantly.

"No," I stated.

My father scowled. "Colleen Lockheart, you will give that pass to your sister," he ordered.

Again I stated, "No."

My mother looked positively murderous. "Either you give that pass to your sister or you will be leaving this house," she threatened.

"Well," I said, "I'm not giving my pass to Kris."

"Then get out," mother demanded. "Just remember, though- your sister knows best."

I calmly stood up, grabbed my coat, and left my parent's house. Fortunately, there was nothing in there that I wanted to take anyways. I had been living in a flat with my friend Annabelle (who goes by Anesia) for the past three years. I had few to no positive memories of my parents' house either.

I hailed a taxi and told the driver my address. As we went along, my mind wandered back to my younger, pre-freedom years.

I suppose with a mother and father like my own, there is precious little good to remember from the first twenty years of my life. From a very young age, I had always been in the shadow of Kris (actually Kristen, but she hates that name.)

We were called the ideal set of twins- Kris, the older one of us by five minutes, was the 'dominant' twin, and I was the 'recessive' one. That means that basically Kris was headstrong, bold, and rather arrogant while I was unsure of myself, shy, and tended to blend in with the shadows. The truth of the matter was that I had been brainwashed into thinking that Kris was God and I was to do everything she said. That is no longer the case, thanks to Anesia and her friend (mine too now) Jean.

They met me when I was going into secondary. Well, they met Kris first, decided she was an asshole, ditched her and then met me. That was one of the best things that has ever happened to me.

Anesia (or Annabelle if you want to piss her off) is extremely obsessed with wolves and rabbits. She reads fantasy a lot and would like to be famous by either being an author, an artist, a photographer, or a peace activist. She has billions of shawls and scarves all over the place- each one is different. Anesia has a twin too- her name is Kathleen, but she goes by Kase. She's younger by only a minute, but her calm personality was easily dominated by Kase's rambunctious one. Kase is best friends with Kris, so I would know.

Jean (or Jenny or Jennifer) loves dogs in a major way. She also reads fantasy, but more of the mythological aspect. She wants to be an adult romance writer, a peace activist (her and everyone else), or a musician. Jean has piles of stuffed dogs all over her place. She is the middle of three children. She's more act-first-think-later, but with Anesia and I around we balance out.

Lastly, there's me. I, obviously, am Colleen Lockheart. I almost obsessively will write my opinion on things. I already have minor fame via my editorials in the London Times, but I also write poetry sometimes (I think it's shit, but Anesia and Jenny disagree.) I think being famous would be a drag, so I don't plan on ever becoming a public servant. I love hats and I leave them in random places around the flat. I, obviously, have a twin named Kris.

The taxi showed up at my apartment, and I exited after paying the driver. I ran up five flights of stairs after that, and finally flung myself into the flat I share with Anesia.

"Honey I'm home!" I cry out, then promptly duck as a stuffed wolf is chucked at my head. Anesia hates it when I do that. I blame the fact that Mr. Next-Door does that every day and I have a tendency to mock people.

"Why must you do that?" Anesia asks me.

"Because it pisses you off!" I say cheerfully. Then I noticed she was wearing all black- not a good sign.

"What happened?" I inquire.

Anesia sighed and murmured, "Dave dumped me for some weird chick who lives in

San Francisco."

I make a sad face then state, "What an ass." Bear in mind the fact we live in bloody London.

Anesia nods and the two of us sit in contemplative silence for a moment. I never have much luck with dating, but Anesia always takes it very seriously, and breakups get her down too.

To distract her from her misery, I get up and start dancing around the main room. "What're you so happy about?" Anesia questions.

"Press conference! Press conference!" I cheered repeatedly. Eventually Anesia got up and began cheering with me.

This was a major, major deal in the press world (not to mention the regular one.) The Beatles had stopped giving large, group press conferences in 1966, and only after an enormous amount of pressure from multiple sides did they consent to this one. It was considered a great honor to even be a candidate to go, and an even greater honor to be allowed in. I was there because I was writing an editorial about the way certain people (i.e. the public's obsession, John and

Yoko) behaved in such a professional setting and how I felt about it. Anesia was going because she was the best photographer employed by The London Times. Jean staffed the building that was hosting the deal so she got in by default. My sister and Kase didn't have passes (yet) so they weren't going, but I would bet the universe they would get in somehow.

"I can't believe it's almost here!" Anesia cried. "It's almost tomorrow and that's the day!"

"I know!" I replied. "Which scarf are you wearing?"

"I have no idea," she admitted sheepishly. "What hat are you wearing?"

"The one that says 'EDITOR' in big huge letters on the front," I answered. "More importantly than that, what the hell are you wearing tomorrow?"

"Oh SHIT!" she exclaimed. "I never even thought of that!" Instantly, she began rushing around, picking up random articles of clothing and flinging them away just as quickly.

I watched her do that for quite some time, laughing my ass off while she ran around like a crazy person. After that, we arranged everything we would bring to the conference- believe you me, there was a lot- and went instantly to sleep, despite our growing excitement.

If we knew the amount of trouble that press conference would cause, we would've stayed at home.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N- Not so sure about the historical accuracy of this thing…and I hope Beatle Lover 19- 20- 1-18 isn't too pissed at the evilness of what her character does… _hides in an underground bunker_

Disclaimer:it's called **FANFICTION** for a reason!

Dateline November 14, 1968

I was pretty excited, even though my assignment was stupid as all hell. The conference was only in 20 minutes! I was already in the large room that it would be held in. The place was packed with representatives from many different news organizations- the BBC, the Sunshine Times, the London Times, and many others. There were so many people that there wasn't much room for chairs- only those who showed up early, like Anesia, Jean, and I got to sit.

"My damn camera is fogged up!' Anesia complained. She shifted uneasily in her chair.

"Oh, I'm just so excited!" someone from behind us cried. I ducked my head and snickered. I never knew a grown man could speak in such a high octave. Well, now I did know, and it was hilarious.

Jean poked my shoulder. "What time is it?" she asked.

I glanced down at my watch. "It's 11:45," I replied. "Only fifteen minutes."

"I can't wait, I can't wait!" Anesia exclaimed. Of all of us, she was the largest Beatle fan (that was debatable actually) and the most likely to spaz when they were right in front of us. She continued to randomly cheer and shout things about how excited she was as the minutes slowly crawled by. Jean poked me in the shoulder and asked the time twice a minute until a man I recognized as Derek Taylor, the Beatle's publicist, walked in. The crowd of us instantly fell silent, but just before he began to speak Kris and Kase waltzed in. They were very mussed up, and I guessed the way they got into the conference. They must've done the exact thing Kris accused me of doing- being in a more-than-friendly relationship with the head of the paper to get a pass in, the hypocrites.

Kase smiled in a way that she most likely assumed was professional, but actually made her look slightly deranged and said, "Sorry we're late, Mr. Taylor. We got stuck in traffic."

He raised an eyebrow- a gesture I find people make quite a lot around Kris and Kase- and replied, "Suure." The two scurried in and stood in the corner to the left of the raised platform the five we'd be interviewing would sit at. I instantly became suspicious of their motives. Why squeeze way up close to the dais if there was someone you dislike (insert hate there) would be only five feet away from you? There was something off on that rationale.

Mr. Taylor asked, somewhat sarcastically, "Any more interruptions?" He looked around pointedly. "Alrighty then," he continued, "before we get this show on the road, I was asked by the boys to lay down a few ground rules. So, nobody rush up to them. Only one person speak at a time. Refrain from insulting anyone. Just to let you know, Yoko will be attending-" There was an angry muttering at that. I rolled my eyes. Honestly, there were five chairs on the dais- who the hell else would be there? People are stupid sometimes.

Mr. Taylor cleared his throat and waited for the murmurs to die down before finishing, "I'll send them in in just a moment. Thank you for your time." He turned to his left and left the room.

In the few seconds between the time Derek Taylor left the room and when the Beatles plus one walked in, a lot happened- in my eyes at least. Firstly, I pulled out my notebook and pens, poised at the ready to take notes on the conference. Secondly, I saw Anesia sit straight upright with her camera expertly aimed at the stage and Jean sit up with a manic grin on her face through my peripheral vision. Thirdly, I partially noted the flurry of motion from around the room- all of the people pulling out notepads and pens and turning on cameras and tape machines. Lastly, I noted the way Kris's and Kase's posture changed- their body language screamed the fact that there was some kind of scheme in play, and I didn't like that. I kept it to myself, but resolved to keep an eye on the troublesome duo.

Immediately after making my resolution, I saw Kris adjusting her clothes so she looked like a model in a Playboy magazine. I would know- one day I walked in on my boyfriend with one of those… and it wasn't pretty. I offered a silent prayer to any God that would listen that the harebrained schemes she had created would fail in a major sort of way.

I was distracted from my musings by the fact that Paul, ever the PR man, had entered the room with an overly- large grin on his face. After a moment Ringo, who was giving everyone jazz hands, followed him and then George walked in smiling calmly at everyone and raised his hands in a miniature wave. By then the crowd of us reporters were clapping enthusiastically, but I barely noticed that. I was intently staring at the doorway, which a. Kris was standing close to and b. John and Yoko would walk out of momentarily. Suddenly, I understood my sister's first (and hopefully last) plan- get John to constantly stare at her so Yoko, who was obviously with him (duh), would get pissed off and lead them into a very public argument.

Fortunately, Kris's plan was not to be. From the moment the two stepped into the main room, hands entwined tightly, their eyes roamed across the room, never stopping on any particular spot for more than a second. I saw my sister stand up even straighter and stick her chest out farther, but her efforts had failed.

I was too amused by the first time I had ever seen my sister publicly humiliated to realize I hadn't even written any of my observations down. I scrambled to catch up. Even though I was really not a fan of the kind of writing I had to do for this particular editorial, I had a good excuse to berate the public for stupidity. For God's sakes, they had been boo-ed for holding hands! What the hell kind of courtesy is that? I can tell you with almost one hundred percent certainty that if it had been Paul and Linda holding hands there would be people saying it was cute!

Well, that didn't really matter. I would be able to paint a very positive picture of John and Yoko, which was something I always delighted in doing. It seemed like very few people who worked for the press actually approved of them as a couple, so I loved writing one of my editorials approving of them and reading all my backlash.

"People are just stupid sometimes," Jean muttered to me. I nodded in agreement as I watched John help Yoko into her chair then sit himself. Anesia, Jean, and I smiled, but other than that I saw no positive reaction.

Once everyone was sitting and the applause had died down, Paul took it upon himself to start the questions. He surveyed the crowd and said into his mic, "Any questions?"

I snorted and restrained my hysterical laughter as the whole crowd began shooting rapid-fire inquiries towards the five at the table. Beside me, Anesia began to take pictures whenever the opportunity presented its self and Jean was shooting questions just as fast as the rest of the group. I, meanwhile, was attempting to write absolutely everything about my editorial's topic- just to state for the record I was failing spectacularly. My sister and her ever-present sidekick were glaring at Yoko with a passion so fierce it could be holy. Did I ever mention I really didn't like them?

Ringo stood up. "Everyone quiet down!" he shouted into his microphone. The masses of press-people instantly shut up. "Please, one at a time- we can't hear all the questions at once!"

A man to my right a ways raised his pen in the air. When Paul nodded at him he asked, "When do you plan on releasing your next record?"

"Our next album will be released near the end of this month," George answered.

And so it went. People kept asking the same old questions and got the same old kinds of answers. I continued to take notes (mostly expressing my annoyance at the constant insults and mockery John and Yoko received,) but I found myself becoming more and more worried about my sister and her sidekick. As time went on, their smirks grew larger and more devious, and I became more desperate to find out what the hell their next plan would be about. I could tell that it would be extremely bad (in my opinion, at least) if their plan was to succeed. It's not like I can see the future or anything- I unfortunately know Kris and Kase, and when they looked like that in this sort of circumstance it means they have a plot that is good for them but bad- normally extremely so- for the ones who oppose them. And I had already seen that they were against John and Yoko… Shit. They were even standing the closest to them!

The second after I realized that disturbing little tidbit, Kris raised her hand. When Paul nodded at her, she smiled like the cat that ate the canary and innocently asked, "How do John and Yoko know they're actually in love? How can you two tell it's not just lust?"

Oh fuck. There isn't really any way to prove that you're in love, per se, so they were basically going to fight a losing battle. Damn them and that stupid question!

John and Yoko put their heads together and began whispering, coming up with a way to answer that question, obviously. After a minute, they sat back up normally. John then leaned forward in his chair, resting his elbows on the table and propping his head up with his hands. "Have you ever been in love, Miss?" he asked in return.

Kris frowned. "Yes," she replied.

I rolled my eyes yet again and smacked my forehead with the palm of my hand. She called an almost stalker-like obsession love- it wasn't **love**, it was an infatuation! Any moron with half a brain knew that! If John actually wanted to know about her "love", then I would eat my hat.

He only raised an eyebrow. "And how did that make you feel, might I ask?" he retorted.

She giggled. "Like I was floating," she answered.

John sat back, allowing his arms to fall onto the table. "How do you know that was love?" he asked. "How are you sure that wasn't anxiety or lust or whatever else?"

"Uh… I don't know," she admitted. Then, she moved to a new tactic. "You could do so much better than her, you know," she told him coyly.

Things deteriorated rapidly from that point. I was shocked at the way my sister and her crony taunted and teased and flaunted every little thing they saw (or thought they saw) in the past however many months John and Yoko had been together. To my great relief, the duo never responded with equal cruelty to their barbs, though I could tell it was getting on their nerves from their expressions and body language.

Just when I thought the famous couple had won the battle of wits, my sister pulled out the big guns. "If you two are so in love," she said sarcastically, "why don't you prove it? I bet you can't go a week in a row without seeing or talking to each other at all and still say you love each other."

The room held its breath as John and Yoko looked at each other. No words passed between them, but in perfect unison they stated, "You're on."

Jean, Anesia, and I could only look at each other helplessly as chaos erupted.


End file.
